Crawling
by Demolation Flame
Summary: Alex Karev's childhood is a confusing labyrinth of child abuse, foster homes, and survival. Follow a young Alex through a series of one-shots detailing his childhood.
1. Never Again

**A/N: I love Alex's story, and I appreciate the character development throughout the series, but I've always been a bit curious about his childhood. There have been a few mentions here and there, so I'm attempting to connect the dots. There are a couple things I've found that are conflicting between sources so if things aren't exact to things that's been in the show, I apologize. This one's longer than most since I combined two chapters. If anyone has any ideas for scenes please let me know, thanks! **

**Summary: Alex Karev's childhood is a confusing labyrinth of child abuse, foster homes, and survival. Follow a young Alex through a series of one-shots detailing his childhood. **

**Rated: M**

**Series Theme Song: Crawling - Linkin Park**

**Chapter One: Never Again (Nickelback)**

_Life is fragile. One kick too many and your last breath can be stolen; one more punch or lash can cause irreparable damage. Add up years of damage-years of pent up rage, hurt, and insecurities-and the last thing keeping you alive can be taken in a moment: your will to live._

_So you safeguard it. It becomes a natural instinct to protect whatever drive remains, until, ironically enough, you will die for it. The very thing that keeps you alive, will kill you just the same._

* * *

_He_ was home.

An instinctual flare of fear swelled in his chest and sent a phantom of pain skittering across his flesh. It was like electricity; fleeting and sharp as it paralyzed him in the shadows. Perhaps it was better that he remained cloaked in darkness. It was safer without a doubt, but safety was not a guarantee when the addiction-deteriorated man blundered through their doors.

The young boy sucked in a breath and slumped back against the shabbily painted wall, squeezing his eyes shut as his ears strained to pick out the heavy thuds of boots on linoleum tiles. No matter how much time passed between the man's visits the boy would never forget the stutter in the man's gait. He would never erase the echo of glass shattering in his drunken hazes, and he would not eradicate the muffled shriek of his mother.

The silence was petrifying and the boy felt his knees buckle until finally they gave way beneath him and he slid to the ground. His heartbeat lurched like a rabid beast, desperate to escape the confines of his ribcage. Each thud echoed in his ears, at least two beats ahead when the first few steps greeted him.

Thud. Thud. Step. Thud. Thud. Step.

The sequence was interrupted abruptly, but instead another familiar sound came. It was shrill and short and sliced deep into his core, eliciting the quiet sobs that racked his frame. Time became insignificant until at last there were no more screams, but there was that dreadful tune again.

Thud. Thud. Step.

He heard his name called by the quietest of voices and he was quick to wipe his eyes. After a moment he heard it again and he was forced to turn his bloodshot, hazelnut gaze to his younger brother. "Alex." It was a simple plea; a plea Alex could not possibly respond to. They were both too young. Alex was only ten, his brother only four. What could they possibly do but tend to their mother in the aftermath of the drunkard's rage?

"Aaron, get out of here," Alex rasped, unable to tear his stare from his brother's. The younger boy took after their mother. Aaron's hair was lighter than Alex's, who had unkempt, dark brown hair, and his eyes were a mournful grey. Even as Alex's innermost thoughts leaned towards self-preservation he could feel the desire to protect those he loved. It reared up in his center and leaked a fiery anger into his veins until it was nearly too much for his small body to contain. "I said leave," he snapped at his brother, turning away sharply to cast a wary look around the corner.

When Alex looked back his sibling was nowhere to be seen and he felt the tension flee. He could remain where he was, curled into a ball as he desperately waited for the savage tune to cease. He did not have to jump into the fray of abuse in a self-depreciating attempt at bravery.

Thud. Thud. Step. Thud. Thud.

There was not another step, and no matter how closely Alex listened for another it did not come. He felt as though his body was submerged in acid, his lungs incapable of breath as the tautness returned.

Thud. Thud.

Why did the man's trek cease? Why did he no longer wander through the home as though he had never left? It unnerved Alex more than anything so far.

That is, until he heard something much worse than a footstep; his voice.

"Alex, where's yer brother, huh?"

Alex swallowed and scuffled to his feet, managing to press himself against the wall before the man loomed closer. His breath was putrid, carrying the bitter scent of cheap alcohol while stale perspiration and cigarette smoke clung to his clothes. The resemblance between Alex and the man he refused to recognize as his father beyond biological paternity was sickening.

"I asked a question, boy, now where's my answer?" The man's words slurred together but Alex did not strain to understand him. Instead he cowered down as the first storm of fists descended upon him. After the second punch he was on his side, curled into himself as he placed his hands over his head.

He knew better than to scream; it would only get worse if he offered that gratification. It would get worse if he did anything but tried to feebly protect himself from the blows, and even then it was several minutes before the tune returned.

Thud. Thud. Step. Thud. Thud. Step.

Fourteen steps and he was gone from their two room apartment. Fourteen steps and the pain set in like rhythmic waves, threatening his consciousness. He had to stay awake though; he had to be sure the man would not return.

Thud. Thud.

Alex held his breath in anticipation, waiting for the man to return as he sometimes did, but the man did not come back. Relief washed over the boy as he slowly unfurled from his ball, accessing his injuries as he was by now accustomed to.

He could breathe without too much pain, and he could move all of his limbs without a terrible roar of pain. Alex thought he would be okay to sit up so with a heavy sigh he pushed himself forward, leaning his back against the wall.

His breath was labored by the time he clawed his way to a standing-and hunched-position. "Aaron," he hissed, certain his brother would not hear him. He wasn't too sure he really wanted his brother to escape the confines of their room. What would happen if their father came back and his sibling was not locked away?

To his surprise the light-haired boy unlocked the door and peered out into the hallway. Tears sprung to his eyes when he saw Alex and he swung open the door, scurried to his side and threw his arms around Alex's torso.

Alex sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as the boy's full body weight pushed him firmly against the wall. His own tears leaked down his cheeks but he couldn't find the energy to lock them away, so instead he simply stood there until his brother released him. "Help me to the kitchen," Alex told him, groaning when the boy proved incapable of supporting his weight for very long and stumbled halfway to the tiled floor. Once his vision cleared he took a shallow breath. "It's okay," he murmured. "Just find the first aid kit."

Alex managed to drag himself to the kitchenette floor where he found his mother leaning against the cabinets. She pressed a less-than-sanitary cloth to her temple where blood oozed, leaving a trail down her cheek until it became a stain on the collar of her shirt. It was always worse for his mother; Alex had no misconceptions on that. While a beating for him lasted a few minutes tops, one for her lasted ten, maybe even twenty if the drunkard offered a preamble.

His mother was completely unaware of her son as he pulled the rag away from her and attempted to access her injuries. Carefully he attempted to move her arm, remembering a time at recess when his teacher had done much the same to a young girl who'd fallen from the monkey bars.

When he tried to move his mother's right arm her face became a maze of emotion and he stopped immediately. He felt dizzy anyways and he didn't want to cause anymore harm where he wasn't able to adequately help her.

After a while Aaron plopped beside him, carrying a simple white box that contained all their meager supplies. Alex popped open the lid and stared balefully at the contents, resting his head in his palms as he tried to think.

He remembered the girl on the playground. The day after her fall she'd come to school with a cast and a sling, but how was Alex supposed to make a sling, let alone a cast?

Finally he settled on addressing that later and sloppily pressed a square of gauze to his mother's temple, placing a band-aid over it so it would stay in place, and then he dissolved a couple painkillers in some water he told Aaron to get.

"Hey," he whispered, coaxing his mother to drink over half the glass before she slumped against the cabinets; completely limp. It sent a trickle of fear through him but he was finding it increasingly difficult to stay awake. He took a few sips from the glass before telling Aaron to dump the rest down the drain.

Aaron tried to curl into Alex's side, searching for some form of comfort but Alex pushed him away. "Go back to the room" Alex told him, knowing it was not a reasonable request, of course Aaron was confused, scared, and just wanted the comfort of his older brother. He just wasn't in any state to offer that comfort.

Aaron tried to protest but each attempt was weak and eventually he wandered off to do what he could, his young mind still unable to comprehend why Alex wanted him away, or why he told him to lock the door behind him. Aaron was blissfully naive still, and Alex was determined to keep him that way for as long as he could, even if it amazed him how the boy could not understand the bruises and screams.

Aaron was his responsibility. Alex couldn't do anything to help their mother, and he couldn't do much to help himself, but he could protect Aaron the only way he knew how to: he could take the brunt of it and keep him hidden. He could stay alive so that Aaron would not become the next victim.

Alex had to stay alive, because if he died the cycle would only continue.

That was the fleeting thought that faded like a wisp of smoke as his eyes closed and he felt himself collapse on the floor. His limbs were leaden, his chest tight with each shallow breath, until eventually he no longer felt anything.

When Alex opened his eyes he became immediately aware of a presence at his side, wide eyes unwavering on his limp frame. He took in a hesitant breath but did not try to heave himself up. Instead he allowed his gaze to idly follow the dusty-blonde haired boy who scooted closer, pressing a light hand to his shoulder. "Alex? Something's wrong with Momma."

It was perhaps the longest sentence Aaron had offered since he'd first started talking at age three. The boy's words gave Alex enough energy to sit up, shooting a verifying glance at their mother.

"She ain't waking up," Aaron cried quietly but Alex didn't try to comfort him. His own fear had seized his core and it took everything in him to crawl beside the curly haired woman. He tried to remember some form of first aid but the only thing his eyes could settle on was the bloodied, makeshift bandage on her head.

His voice was thick in his throat and he clambered to his feet, wincing as the movement pulled at his stiff muscles. Alex shot a cursory look around the living room that was adjoined to the kitchen, scowling at the turned over furniture. He told his brother to help him and they managed to upturn the old, ragged couch. "Find me the phone," Alex mumbled as he stumbled to their shared room.

By the time he'd unbuttoned his torn flannel shirt and replaced it with a printless black shirt that he thought would cover the worst of the bruising Aaron was handing him the phone. For half a moment Alex considered whether or not to call an ambulance but his doubt was slain when the image of his battered mother flickered.

His conversation with the operator was curt so his pain would not be so obvious, but the kind-voiced woman seemed to think it was only shock or fear. He told them their mother had an accident and that he didn't know what happened. He was too weary to fabricate a convincing tale, and so long as she was not transferred to a larger hospital the local one would not arch too many brows.

Alex had enough time to check his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was worse than he was hoping for. His sunkissed skin was mottled by bruising along his brow and visible collarbone, and his lip was split, which left the trail of dried blood on his chin. He hastily wiped it away, ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and moved as fast as he dared to let the EMT's into his home.

While the two EMT's, an older woman with wise, cerulean eyes and a younger man with a chipped-tooth-smile and bed-head-styled black hair, went to help his mother a third figure turned to him. He looked to be in his mid-forties and his prominence seemed to fill the room.

"Hello, my name is Daniel Meyers." The man proffered a hand and Alex scowled, accepting the gesture although his hand was dwarfed by the man's calloused grip. "Are you the one that called about your mother?"

Alex nodded, casting a glance over his shoulder as the EMT's carried his mother on a gurney back through the front door. "Her name's Hellen Evans. I'm Alex."

Daniel smiled but Alex could feel the man's eyes were locked on the bruises. The scrutiny made him uncomfortable and he started to shift in his place, wishing the man were not blocking his way to the ambulance outside. "Is it just you and your mom, Alex?"

"No," he said tersely, his discomfort squirming in his center. Where was Aaron? "Aaron's my brother," his words trailed as he looked around the small apartment.

"No father?"

Alex tensed at the title and shook his head, unwilling to offer more when Aaron appeared from their room, eyes puffy and bloodshot. He gestured for his brother to join him though he kept himself in front of the younger boy as they followed Daniel to his vehicle outside. Alex felt the tension in the atmosphere of the confined space, the idea of foster care and unwelcome return into his life as they drove in silence to the hospital.

Once the trio stood in the emergency room, safe from the bitter chill outside, Alex found himself relaxing a degree. If Daniel were looking to take him and Aaron from the home he was certain the man would have been asking questions in the privacy of the vehicle. That's what the last social service worker did; waited until they were alone and could try and worm out the truth by a play on emotions and empty promises. As though a foster home could offer a better life.

No, he knew better than that. The first time had been horrendous, and he wasn't about to let Aaron go through the same thing. "How about we go to the cafeteria, boys? I wouldn't mind some ice cream myself."

Alex was wary of the offer but when he saw the relief in Aaron's eyes he found himself unable to deny the boy, and as the man told them it was his treat he saw no good reason to turn down the offer. It had been years since Alex had had ice cream and he found himself warming up to the idea himself.

As it turned out they were the only ones in the cafeteria and after a few moments they were sitting at a round table, Aaron greedily spooning his chocolate dessert down while Alex played with his spoon. He took a bite and almost cringed as the sweetness riled up his taste buds. "So, Alex, can you give me some idea as to what happened? How old are you?"

The second question seemed rather peculiar but Alex could not find any harm in answering that one. The first was a bit trickier and he took his time cleaning his plastic spoon, savoring the sugary delicacy. "Aaron and I went to bed around eight," Alex started with, grateful he managed to catch the time on the dashboard of the man's car. It'd been ten then so he figured it was reasonable to say they'd just went to bed when everything happened. "Not much can wake me up but Aaron heard a noise and woke me up. I went to see if it was a raccoon or something-"

"Do raccoons get in often?" Daniel almost seemed amused and Alex found himself smirking.

"They do when you live where we do." It was true, raccoons and various other wildlife rummaged through their kitchen, or lingered just outside the door prepared to scare Alex half to death. Aaron, on the other hand, was completely unperturbed by the unexpected visitors. "I saw Mom wasn't sleeping on the couch and when I went to the kitchen I found her on the floor. I told Aaron to stay in our room and found the phone to call the ambulance, but I don't know what happened."

"Is that true, Aaron?" Daniel's tone was controlled. There was not any tint of doubt to Alex's story, but the question was enough that Alex knew his lie wasn't good enough. Fortunately for him, Aaron was much too busy with eating his ice cream to have heard anything he said and he bobbed his head in agreement absently.

If Daniel was exasperated by the idle agreement it did not show as he turned his attention again to Alex. Offhandedly he reached in his pocket and withdrew a five dollar bill from his wallet, handing it to Aaron. "Hey, would you mind getting me a coffee?"

The boy bobbed his head up and down again and trailed off, his glee admirable in spite of their predicament. Daniel lowered his voice, brows furrowed. "Alex, I'm here to help you."

"I don't need your help," Alex told him, losing interest in his ice cream as he settled back with his arms crossed over his chest.

Daniel bowed his head and mimicked the position. "Alright, but you look pretty banged up. How'd that happen?"

Alex looked away, watching his brother as he fidgeted in line. It was amazing how the cafeteria went from being utterly empty to crammed with people anxious for caffeine or food. He wondered how long their mother would be in the hospital but Daniel cleared his throat and he returned his attention to the question. "Got into a fight at school," he said.

Daniel arched a brow, not believing him. "Really? And do you get into fights often?"

"Ask the school and you'd think I was the biggest hellraiser in the state," Alex muttered, not having to force the distaste for the judgement.

A flicker of concern was gone as soon as it appeared. It was replaced by a hard edge as he seemed to decide a different approach was appropriate. "So did he provoke you, bully you? Or did she-"

"I don't hit girls," Alex interrupted quietly, glaring at the subtle insinuation. It was ill-settled in his stomach as the accusation hung in the air, physically making him sick at the idea that he would ever be like his father.

Daniel made a dismissive gesture. "Right, I didn't think you were like your father." Before Alex had the chance to protest the man was already continuing. "So why don't you admit it, Alex? Your neighbors heard her scream, and they saw a drunk man flee your apartment." He leaned forward after shooting a glance to make sure Aaron was still in line. The young boy was at the front, stumbling over the order and handing the bill over. "I'm willing to bet your father didn't just go after her."

Alex was scooting back in his chair anger prompting the unshed tears in the back of his eyes as the man's words hit home. "I can protect Aaron," Daniel promises earnestly. "You don't have to fight this on your own."

"And who's going to protect my mom?" Alex asked quietly, gathering his feet beneath him with an involuntary wince. He pushed the cup of ice cream for Aaron to have just as the boy came over, carefully balancing the steaming cup of coffee. "I'm going to the bathroom," he muttered, leaving the cafeteria without another glance back.

Alex didn't stop until he found himself lost in the winding corridors of the hospital, the sterile air burning each time he sucked in a shallow breath. With a sigh he leaned against the wall and slid to the ground. He wrapped his thin arms around his knees and hid his face despite the lack of tears. He didn't cry in front of others, or at least he would try his hardest not to. Instead he welcomed the peace and quiet, cherishing the few moments it seemed Daniel could not find him.

The silence was disturbed minutes later when a woman dressed in teal scrubs crouched beside him. He glanced sidelong at her and was surprised to find her crouched as his side, the genuine concern in her chartreuse stare shocking. "Are you Alex Evans?" she asked in a quiet, bell tone.

He wanted to lie but the idea was absurd. He was willing to bet there weren't many bruised ten year olds were lost in the local hospital, so when he nodded he expected to be taken immediately back to the worker. Instead she stood and proffered a hand which he accepted with an ironic frown.

"Your mom is Hellen?"

Again her gentleness shocked him and it took him a few moments to nod, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.

"Do you want to see her?"

Alex's lack of response seemed to be confirmation enough for the woman because she walked the opposite way that he'd came. When they stopped at an elevator and she pressed for the third floor he found himself holding his breath.

"I'm Doctor Hill," she said, gesturing for him to follow her. "Your mom is conscious right now, but she'll have to stay overnight for observation. Nothing too serious," she said hastily, seeming the think the idea of spending the night would frighten Alex. "In fact, we can bring in a couple cots if you and your brother would like to stay with her."

Something gave Alex the idea they weren't supposed to let him, or his four year old brother, stay in the ICU for the night but she seemed confident that she could bend the rules, and it meant he wouldn't be put in foster care for the night. He thanked her absently but his stare was fixated on the familiar woman that sat up in the nearest room.

Doctor Hill smiled and let him enter the room alone for which he was grateful for. True to her words there were already two cots set up in the room but Alex was certain he would not be sleeping that night. Instead he went to his mother's side and wound his fingers with hers.

Turning her neck to face him seemed to cause her pain but she smiled nonetheless. "Alex," she murmured. "You're such a good boy."

Alex offered a small smile and went to pull up one of the chairs, where he lingered for another half hour before Daniel and Aaron appeared in the doorway. Daniel gestured for him to join him outside and reluctantly Alex clambered to his feet, following the man out of earshot. "Remember what I said," was all the man told him, handing him a plain card with his name and number on it. "If he comes back, call me, Alex."

"Do you have an answer?" Alex asked, stilling the man before he reached the elevator. The man glanced back at him quizzically before understanding dawned on him. He remained silent, pursing his lips as he searched for a formidable answer. Alex was already shaking his head though. "Don't expect me to call then," he murmured and turned away.

When he entered her room he found Aaron was already asleep on the cot nearest her, but Alex ignored the temptation the other cot offered and took up sentry by his mother. He didn't take her hand again as to not wake her up, so instead he settled back in his chair and watched her blearily, listening to the steady beeping of the monitors.


	2. For A Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic

**A/N: Thank you ****_cintiamcr _****for pointing out Alex's mom's name is Hellen. :)**

**I don't really like this chapter but this is the best version I've managed, so hopefully you guys like it :D **

**Chapter One: **

**For a Pessimist, I'm pretty Optimistic (Paramore)**

_Optimism, pessimism, realism, idealism… all of these are just words to describe the different states of mind. As far as I'm concerned, they are inadequate labels, where the inadequacy comes from the simplicity a label supplies._

_So if I am to label myself, I am a pessimist first, a realist second, and an optimist last. I am a pessimist because 'help' has only ever hurt me and my family. I am a realist because life is not fair. I am not an optimist, because I have watched Aaron suffer where I have failed; where 'help' has not pulled through-where empty promises have fallen as easily as rain._

_So I guess you could say 'help' is the last thing I want._

_from anyone._

_No exceptions._

* * *

The first time Alex was pushed to the extreme of theft he was eight years old; an amateur that cried himself to sleep even though he was only trying to survive. Since then there had been multiple times he had to steal food, but it was considerably different now that he was known for such acts. He was no longer the pitied child that was let off the hook. He was eleven years old, a regular at the local hospital, and the kid on the block expected to be dead before he graduated.

Alex pushed those thoughts to the side and trailed his fingers idly across the shelves, eyes scanning the aisles for the items he would grab in a few moments. He knew the local grocery store by heart; and it was the only place he was not suspected at. The nooks and crannies that weren't monitored by the cameras were often what ensured Aaron and him did not starve. The knowledge of when employees took breaks and weren't in the back was helpful as well.

He picked up a can of chicken noodle soup and studied the label less than attentively. His attention was instead on the dwindling worker. When the dark haired woman disappeared in the back Alex acted, setting the cans down and gathering packs of instant mashed potatoes, packaged ramen noodles, and a box of granola bars. He tossed each item in the arm basket and walked into the back, slipping into the bathroom that was meant for employees.

Careful to lock the door behind him Alex set the basket down and lifted his his baggy sweatshirt to reveal a much tighter, black wifebeater. It would hold the packages against him, and the sweatshirt would conceal the bulkiness. The idea was sound, and it had worked time after time, so perhaps that was what made Alex arrogant. When he heard voices outside the door he didn't drop his sweatshirt immediately and instead fit a fourth package of instant potatoes, alongside two packs of ramen noodles.

Before he could conceal his actions an employee knocked on the door, and under the belief that there was no one in the bathroom due to the light being off he began unlocking the door. Alex felt a residual fear leap into his throat when the door opened too quickly. "Hey, what're you doing?" an accusatory voice shouted, and then more employees appeared.

Alex couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say, so instead he just stood there and waited for someone to say something. His gaze flicked amongst the men and women until it landed on a grey-haired man. It was someone he recognized, but for the life of him he could not remember who it was.

"Call the police," someone said and the handful of spectators diminished by one. Alex swallowed, his tongue parched and too thick to formulate a defense.

Time seemed to speed up and it felt like only minutes had passed before the sirens echoed outside, and then two officers bustled into the store. Evidently no one had told them it was a kid stealing, not a formidable adult.

The older officer sighed, offering a subtle shake of his head as he told the chestnut haired woman to call social services. Alex heard all of his commands as though there was a veil of water, adding distance to each moment. He felt as though he were watching himself when the officer gestured for him to release the rest of the groceries.

Wordlessly Alex did, allowing the packages to drop to the floor with a quiet thump before the man came forward and placed a cool hand on his elbow. "Come on, son," the officer told him, escorting him out of the store and to the awaiting police vehicle. Alex was told to sit in the back, and when the door closed behind him he found himself absolutely numb.

Who would keep Aaron from starving now? He should have felt panic with the thought, but he found himself utterly incapable of drudging up emotion. His limbs were leaden with the complete lack of feeling and his heartbeat was a steady thrumming in his chest. Alex leaned back in the seat and allowed the noise of officers, employees, and spectators to engulf him. It was almost comforting, like white noise that blocked off all unwelcome thoughts, allowing him to stare blankly at the glass that separated him from the driver's and passenger's seats.

Only the mindless noise was interrupted by someone knocking on the window, and then the door being opened. Alex glanced blearily to see the intruder, and sighed. It was a familiar face, even if he had not seen it in a year. The man did not smile, nor did he frown, instead he simply studied Alex. The man's caramel gaze was piercing and held the capacity to see through any facade Alex could muster, so Alex did not offer a mask.

He allowed each moment to peel away the numbness and plunge him deeper into the fear, panic, and anger that bubbled in his center. He allowed the rawness of the moment to show in his face, until finally the man straightened. "Come on, son," he said, and Alex almost laughed. It wasn't funny, really, but hearing those same three words was almost too much.

"I'm not your son," he said, but did not resist as the ebony-haired man cut through the crowds with an aura that demanded obedience. When employees and shoppers began gawking the man cast a glare their direction. The onlookers carried their silent reprimand with them as they slunk back to the store or to their vehicles out in the parking lot.

The man grunted and Alex thought it was dull acknowledgement to his comment, but he couldn't be sure as the door to the sleek, black car was opened and he was told to get in. Wordlessly Alex did, not moving to buckle his seatbelt when the door closed and he was joined a moment later by the man in the driver's seat.

Silence carried on for a full minute before the man sighed and turned in his seat to face him. "Why?" he demanded, his gaze studying Alex with an intensity that barred eye contact.

Alex shook his head, pressing his lips together as he stared unseeingly at the dashboard. It was the same car as before; it had the deep fracture in the right corner, close to where the windshield was adjoined.

"Damn it, look at me, Alex."

The severity of the man's command warranted Alex's attention and he sent a full-on glare at him, fists clenching in his lap. "What?" he bit out, not trusting his voice to remain steady as the traitorous tears burned in the back of his eyes.

The worker's expression softened and his anger deflated like smoke. "Why'd you do it?" he asked in a measured voice.

Alex smirked bitterly and looked away again. His voice came out thicker than he cared for it to. "You wouldn't understand."

He snorted and looked skyward, his lips curling in a bitter smile of his own. "Your mom got fired again, you guys needed food, you were stealing to supply your family, anything else?"

Alex glanced sidelong at the man, smirk gone as his brows knitted together. "How do you…?" he couldn't find the words to properly ask, so he settled for a questioning look.

When the man seemed unwilling to answer Alex started to doubt the dim hope that the man did understand. "I know," he said quietly, suddenly, "because I've been through it all. I, Daniel Meyers, social service worker, was in your same situation."

"Why'd you have to ask then?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, though the silence was interrupted by the static of a radio, a voice cutting through. Daniel turned off the volume of the device and sighed. "I was hoping you didn't have a good reason," he muttered, turning the key in the ignition resignedly. He gestured for Alex to put on his seatbelt as he did the same, leaving Alex a moment to consider the cryptic answer.

Daniel and Alex remained in an uncomfortable silence as they drove away from the grocery store and instead onto the highway. The gentle hum as the car weaved through traffic was soothing, until Daniel spoke up again. "I can't stop the law," he said. "You'll spend time in juvie," he continued after a moment.

Alex made a sound in the back of his throat. He'd expected as much. He'd been suspected for years, but this was the first time he'd been outright caught; completely incapable of lying his way out.

"But it helps you've got someone in your corner. A couple months tops and you'll be with a family."

"Aaron-"

"I'll take care of him," Daniel interrupted. Alex glared out the window but didn't protest. It wouldn't do any good to argue by now. He just hoped Aaron's experience with foster care wasn't as severe as Alex's.

"What about my mom?" Alex asked.

Daniel sucked in a heavy breath, releasing it slowly. "I'll do what I can, Alex. I promise that much."

"Don't promise," Alex told him, blinking away the tears that threatened to escape. He couldn't take another broken promise, and this man was the only one that hadn't promised him something yet. The only one that hadn't lied to him.

Daniel didn't say anything as he took the next exit, navigating the next few streets until he stopped in front of an official looking building. Alex was certain that this would be his prison for a while, and as they got out of the car he allowed the numbness to settle back over him, like a protective shield.

They walked up the concrete stairs and Daniel opened the glass doors, allowing a wave of air conditioning to greet them. When they walked through the next pair of doors a pudgy man in a navy uniform stepped forward, shaking Daniel's hand and guiding them to a private room. He told Alex to sit down, and then faced Daniel. "You're free to go," the officer said before leaving the room himself.

Daniel didn't leave immediately though. Instead he pulled out a chair across from Alex, studying him. "I don't make empty promises, Alex."

Alex thought it was a ridiculous thing to say, and as he didn't have anymore to say he folded his arms on the table and pressed his forehead to his forearm, effectively hiding his face.

"I need you to let them help you though," Daniel continued, unfazed.

"I don't want any help," Alex mumbled, unmoving as he heard a chair scoot back and what he thought were Daniel's parting words.

"You don't get a choice here." Four footsteps and he heard the knob turn, the latch undone. He waited to hear the door close behind Daniel, but first two heartfelt words circled his head. "I'm sorry."

And like that the shield was shattered, splintering into a thousand razor sharp shards that sliced his skin. The tears fell, soaking into the sleeve of Alex's jacket as he was left alone in the oppressive room. Alone, helpless, and angry as the fear of the foster homes that would come washed over him.

No one bothered him as the quiet sobs racked his body, and for a long time afterwards no one bothered him still. He liked it that way; he liked that no one would go near him while he recovered. He preferred it that everyone was gone. It gave him time to place everything in tightly bound boxes, piled in the corners of his mind, all labelled _fragile_.


End file.
